I used to sing nursery rhymes to absentdaughter when I was changing her nappy in order to distract her. My bedroom where I usually did this was next door to the kitchen of an upstairs flat. On a summery day when the windows were open I could sometimes here the thirty-something man next door singing Baa Baa Black Sheep as he prepared his breakfast.
For the last couple of days I have had that ghastly and ancient Cher song – Boom, boom, he shot me down/Boom, boom that awful sound… going round in my head. I think I'd rather have Ba Baa Black Sheep.
Another sweater made with left over yarn
You have received a windfall ...


How did that mere boy get such a deep voice?